Sometimes snow just feels right.
In the same way that a thunderstorm
clears the heaviness from a summer day, only colder,
or the spot beneath your pillow
cools your cheek on a still, breezeless night, only fluffier,
or a bright new carpet without a step upon it
lights up the room you’ve looked at for years, only larger.
A man takes an oath for change
before a million sparkling faces standing as one.
And it feels like snow.